


Right Here

by darling_pet



Category: Ed (US TV)
Genre: Confessions, Crushes, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Girls' Night Out, Love Confessions, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Romance, Secret Crush, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: Girls' Night Out gets a little crazy and your best friend Ed has to take you home.





	Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful graphic by Tumblr user metahuman-misadventures

 

Girls' Night Out was a rare occasion with you and your friends, but whenever it finally happened, you ladies did it right. The best booth at The Smiling Goat, appetizers, and _all_ the drinks. You've had maybe a few too many tonight, but so have your friends, and you rarely ever got to let loose anymore. In the middle of one of your stories, you overhear a friend of yours at the payphone near the restrooms.

“Ed, you're going to need to come and pick up (Y/N)... She's kind of drunk... Well, we all are...” Your friend sees you turn around at the sound of Ed's name. “And she wants to tell you something very important.” Your eyes widen with fear and you jump up out of your chair, running to her, trying to reach around her pivoting body for the phone.

“ _Shhhhh_!”

“Yes, world-shattering important. She's in lo-” You finally smash your hand down on the hook switch as if you were a ninja in a past life.

“ _What the hell_?” you yell at her.

“(Y/N), it's been _years._ You have to tell Ed eventually!”

You make a face at your friend and thank your lucky stars she hadn't finished her sentence. If she had told Ed, your best friend and number one crush for the past couple years, that you were in love with him, everything would be ruined. And that must never happen.

No matter how much you wanted him.

Why? Two words:

Carol. Vessey.

Even though she married Dennis, Ed still had feelings for her. He would wallow in said feelings and come to you to get it all off his chest. Because that's what best friends do. Even if it hurt that he couldn't see what was right in front of him, you were always there for him. After all, it's not like he could go to Carol anymore to talk. Dennis made sure of that, having moved himself and his new bride to Minneapolis for work (and far, _far_ away from Ed).

You head back to your group of girlfriends and continue your gossip sesh. At one point, someone says something gut-bustingly hilarious and you can't breathe from laughing so hard. You tumble out of the booth and your ass hits the ground. Everyone cackles even harder, you joining in with them. A tall shadow falls in front of you, so you tilt your head up and see the upside-down handsome face of your somewhat-secret crush. Ed wears a thin-lipped smile as if trying not to laugh at your current position.

“Looks like someone's having a good time.”

Your table of friends whisper to each other then all say, “Oooooo!” You snap them an _I'm going to kill you all_ look. Ed helps you up with an “Upsie Daisy!”

You revel in the way his arms hold you up and begin to walk you out of The Smiling Goat. Your friends see your dazed expression and call after you two.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)! Take _extra_ good care of our girl, Ed!”

“Always!” he replies. “Goodnight, ladies.” He helps you into his car and actually does your seatbelt up for you.

“Ed, I think I could've done that myself.”

“Says the woman who was laughing and sitting on the floor of a bar a minute ago.”

You are not on your game well enough to spout a comeback. On the ride back to your place, he asks you his burning questions like, “How was Girls' Night?” “What's the hot gossip?” and “What was so darn funny that had you literally rolling in the aisles laughing?”

Once arrived at your home, Ed helps your unsteady self into the house and up the stairs to your room. You insist you could manage the simple task but then stumble into him, discrediting your claim. His hand rests on your lower back, guiding you slowly to your bedroom. _Ed's in my bedroom._

“So, a little birdie told me you have something important to tell me,” he says, helping you remove your jacket.

“I think this little birdie's a liar.”

“Aw come on, really, what is it?” he asks seriously with his hand on your shoulder. “We tell each other everything. Can't stop now!” Your head still feels fuzzy.

“Ed. Ed, Ed, Ed, _Ed_.”

He tries to stifle a laugh. “What?”

“Have you heard about _the conspiracy_?” you whisper.

“What conspiracy is that?” he whispers back.

“Chapstick.”

“Chapstick?”

“Chapstick. Yunno how you have to keep applying it constantly? The manufacturers put microscopic pieces of glass in it so it makes your lips chap more often. Then when you run out, you have to buy _more_.”

“Huh,” he says. “You're either on to something... or you're really drunk.”

“No, no, Ed, think about it.” You grip the sides of his arms as if to get him to seriously consider your theory. “Glass. In the _Chapstick._ Chapping. Your lips...” Your eyes fall to his mouth (which is curled into an amused smile) and linger there far longer than they should. And then, well, you can't help yourself.

Stepping up to the balls of your feet, you kiss that ridiculously gorgeous mouth of his. It's something you've wanted to do for so incredibly long and _oh_ , they're so soft against yours. Like a dream. A beautiful, beautiful dream you may have concocted in your head countless times before. It might be a combination of blood rushing to your head and having surpassed your alcohol limit, but you wobble in front of him and fall back on your bed. Your eyes close, taking you back to the dream world of kissing Ed Stevens.

 

 

The sun rays that interrupt your sleep the following morning are a rude awakening. The inside of your head sounds like a construction site. You need water and maybe some toast... First, you change out of your clothes from last night and into something comfier before heading downstairs. You hold onto the railing just in case you take a nasty fall in your weakened condition. Initially, you head straight for the kitchen for something to soothe your hangover, but a noise from your living room peeks your interest instead.

There, sprawled out on your couch, is Ed with his mouth open and snoring. It's almost too cute to handle this early in the day.

“Ed?” He startles awake with a jolt. “What are you still doing here?”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were feeling alright.”

“Um, yeah, I'm fine. You know, considering.” You point to your head with a small grimace.

“Do you remember everything from last night?” Oh no, you think you know where he's going with this. The kiss. The freaking kiss. Oh crap.

“I... I um, it's a little fuzzy- Hey do you want toast? I want toast. I'll go make us toast.” You flee the scene fast yet as subtly as you can, but Ed's close behind on your heels.

“(Y/N), you're not telling me something,” he persists. You pop some bread into the toaster with your back to him, not ready to own up to your actions. “I know you remember what happened. I know you remember the kiss. (Y/N), look at me.”

The problem with Ed is that you'll do anything he asks.

You try to form words to explain yourself, but find it physically impossible with getting lost in his big blue, searching eyes. This could ruin everything, but it could also maybe be the start of something else.

“Edward Jeremy Stevens, I am completely and hopelessly in love with you and have been for a long time. I _know_ you're my best friend and saying this could jeopardize our entire relationship and I _know_ you're still pining after Carol even though she's married now and miles away, but I'm _right here_. I've always been _right here_.” You take a deep breath after getting everything out in the open. “I understand if you don't want to be with me _that way_ , but-”

Ed stops you mid-sentence with his mouth on yours. _Oh my God, oh my God._

“You don't know how happy this makes me,” he says with his winning smile.

“But what about Carol?”

“(Y/N), it's been over half a year. I've moved on.”

“But then why haven't you pursued me like you did her?”

“Because you're precious. Not only as a person but to me. I didn't want to risk what we had either.” Your heart is swelling so big right now. This does change everything – for the better. The toaster shoots out the pieces of bread, which makes you jump. You grin up at him.

“Toast?”

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story sprouted from me tipsily telling a friend (and me laughing on a kitchen floor) about the Chapstick conspiracy last week. Buzzed outline planning started immediately after. It just so happened that Ed was the first man that popped into my head for this story that night, so he deserves another story, the dreamy bastard. This was also originally called “Chapstick.”


End file.
